


Darling

by arrenkae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Newton Geiszler/Female Hermann Gottlieb, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrenkae/pseuds/arrenkae
Summary: Dr Newt Geiszler and Dr Hedda Gottleib had better learn to get along - fast - because the doomsday clock is ticking.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Dr Natasha ‘Newt’ Geiszler met Dr Hedda Gottleib, she didn’t realise it.

It was all a bit of a blur.

She was in a rush that morning, because she slept through her third alarm, and stumbled out of bed. Then she remembered that 8am meeting with Pentecost, and panicked.

She barely had time to shower and her hair stuck up all over the place. And not in a rockstar way. It just looked stupid, but there was no time to fix that.

Then she couldn’t find her shoes in the pile of clothes on the floor, and she wrestled and hopped around trying to squeeze into her skinny jeans.

And where the hell did she put her keycard? She couldn’t even see the counter anymore under the mountain of takeout containers.

By the time she stumbled out of the door with a can of energy drink, she knew she was already late. As usual.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she muttered.

Newt rushed down the busy corridors of the new Shatterdome, taking gulps of energy drink in-between navigating the crowd. Her pulse thrummed in her head. Late, late, _late._ For the first time, she was going to meet the brilliant Dr Gottleib, the person who she’d been emailing back-and-forth for the past year, and _finally,_ they’ll have a decent science program, but _no,_ Newt is going to fuck it all up because she can’t fucking organize herself, and Pentecost will probably sack her and then she’ll be out on the street and….

And, okay, sometimes stressed-early-morning-Newt wasn’t the best person to be around.

“Excuse me,” Newt growled as she elbowed past someone in the cafeteria.

Something heavy poked at her.

“It’s just like you bloody engineers, pushing everyone around! Have some manners!” The voice was reedy and judgemental and too much before breakfast.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Newt said again, in a quite different tone. She turned around. “ _An engineer?_ I have six docotorates, lady.”

“In basket weaving, I’m sure,” said the woman.

“I’m a cryptozoologist, _actually,_ ” she said. That should shut her up. Who the hell did this random think she was, anyway? She looked like the miserable old lady at a church fete who smacks kids’ hands away from the biscuits, and Newt disliked her on principle.

The woman just sneered at her, undaunted, and said: “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re in the _soft sciences,_ then. My apologies.”

Newt saw red.

“Hey, bag lady, I’d love to ‘prove’ my science to you, but I don’t think I could get through past that thick skull of yours. And I’m actually busy being a rock star and saving the world, so move it,” Newt snapped, and shoved past her.

Or she would have, if she hadn’t just hit the floor. Her knees stung from the impact. The energy drink spilled all over the floor and onto her white shirt. Newt whipped around in anger, just in time to spot the cane that the woman was holding, and her shit-eating grin.

Newt should feel bad, she really should, but her impulse in that moment was to knock it out from under her. Newt was never good at resisting an impulse. So she kicked back, just enough to unbalance her, and hissed: “Your hair is stupid.”

A look of sheer outrage crossed the woman’s face at the action, and she whacks Newt in the shins. “You look like a demented chicken,” the woman said, “and – and your tattoos are in poor taste!”

“How _dare you_ – “ Newt began, and it escalated from there.

\---

Pentecost stood at attention with his back tall and his hands clasped behind his back. He was 6 ft of solid muscle and there was a disapproving gleam in his eye.

Newt – and the woman she now knew as Dr Hedda Gottleib – were standing before him. Newt’s hair stuck up even more after Hedda took a big chunk of it. Hedda’s lip was bruised. They were both glaring at each other in a way they thought was surreptitious.

Pentecost sighed.

“Dr Gottleib. Dr Geiszler. Please explain.”

They both start shrieking at the same time.

“This woman is _completely unprofessional-“_

“If she hadn’t _insulted my science –_ “

 “DR GOTTLEIB. DR GEISZLER. Do NOT make me raise my voice,” barked Pentecost. Once they both shut up, he said, “I’ll ask you one at a time. Do not speak unless I ask you to. At least try to act professional, the both of you.”

He turned to Newt. “Dr Geiszler. What happened?”

“She poked me with her cane! And then tripped me over! She’s rude.”

“ _Rude?_ ” hissed Dr Gottleib. “You stepped on my bad leg and elbowed past me, just because _you_ were late! And you insulted my hair!”

“Yeah, well _you_ called me a demented chicken, and –“

“Ladies,” said Pentecost, “I think I’ve heard enough. You will apologize to one another. And then we will reschedule our professional meeting for tomorrow, once you’ve thought long and hard about how much you really want to work here. Because I will find other scientists, if I have to.”

Newt swallowed. She wanted this so, so bad, and now that horrible, musty hag was going to ruin it for her, and she couldn’t allow it. She turned around, and mumbled, “Sorry” while still looking at the floor.

She caught sight of the other woman’s shoes and bit back laughter. She wore brown tights, with white socks layered over that, tucked into orthopaedic mary janes.

The picture did not get much better. Dr Gottleib was an archaeology of layers, wool and tweed and dull brown, zipped into a pencil skirt. She wore a lumpy wool turtleneck over that, which gave the unfortunate effect of a uniboob somewhere above the navel. (There was no way she had ever had a proper bra fitting in her life, and that was _criminal._ )

In addition to the jumper, she was swaddled in a furry parka. The complete effect made her look like a bag lady who’d wandered in from the Siberian tundra. Newt, sweating in the humidity of the Shatterdome, hated her even more.

“My face is up here,” said Dr Gottleib in an icy tone. Newt realised that she had been gawking at her chest for a full minute, and flushed red with embarrassment. She forced herself to look up and meet her eyes.

“A proper apology,” said Pentecost in a warning tone.

Newt swallowed and dared to look Dr Gottleib in the eye. She had an angular face with high cheekbones and dark eyes. It might have been striking, were it not for her hair. Scraped back into a severe bun and parted down the exact middle. Newt had a sudden mental image of her measuring the part with a ruler when she got ready in the morning.

A snort of laughter escaped before she could stop herself, and Dr Gottleib glared at her.

“Is something funny, Dr Geiszler?”

“No, no, all good,” Newt wheezed.

“ _Dr Geiszler,_ ” said Pentecost, in the sort of tone that said _I will sack you and you really will end up on the street if you don’t shut up this second._

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Newt squeaked and held out a hand. “I really am sorry. Uh. Dr Gottleib.”

She attempted a smile.

Dr Gottleib looked at the outstretched hand and her upper lip curled in a sneer. Seconds passed.

“ _Dr Gottleib,_ ” said Pentecost in that same tone.

She gave a roll of her eyes. “Fine. My apologies. I am sure we shall both endeavour to be more professional in future _,_ won’t we, Dr Geiszler?”

“Shake my hand,” said Newt. “Go on. I’m not contagious.” She was starting to get mad again at the woman’s standoffishness.

Those thin lips narrowed to a line. A hand emerged, robot-like, and clasped her own. It was like she’d never even shook hands before. She brushed Newt’s hand for only the briefest of moments, and then withdrew, burying them in her pockets again.

Then she turned away and refused to look at her.

 _Fine,_ thought Newt, _I can be passive-aggressive, too._

“You can both leave,” said Pentecost, “But a warning. If I have to deal with you two again under anything but the highest professional standards of this institution, I will be finding other people to fill your roles. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they both mumbled in unison.

“Good! Now go and get used to your new lab. I trust there won’t be any more problems.”


	2. Chapter 2

To say Dr Hedda Gottleib was disappointed would be an understatement.

The person she had gleaned from Dr Geiszler’s papers, and the person she was now confronted with, were two entirely different entities.

Dr Geiszler – the academic – was witty and professional and brilliant and full of ideas that sizzled and bounced off each other in a reaction that was wonderful to watch. Dr Geiszler – the academic – was someone who Dr Gottleib – the academic – had thought would finally be a true colleague. (Perhaps, here at last was _her people,_ someone who she could truly commune with _._ Perhaps she had been too sentimental in that regard.)

Newt Geiszler, the human being, was a trainwreck.

She was perpetually late, perpetually talking, and perpetually losing things. Her side of the room was an avalanche of paperwork and takeout containers. And Dr Gottleib just wanted to rush over there and throw it all out and make it ordered again. How on earth could Newt function in that mess?

And as for her appearance – well, Hedda admitted to herself that she was being a little unprofessional in her judgement. But Newt was being unprofessional in her _standards._ She wore wrinkled men’s shirts and blazers several sizes too big for her and a battered pair of sneakers that were covered in sharpie scribbles. As if this was still university. It was so juvenile.

“Call me Newt,” she insisted. And kept calling her “Hedda”, as if they were on a first-name basis _,_ as if they’d all get together and make friendship bracelets and have giggly sleepovers. (That had never ended well, in Dr Gottleib’s experience. She despised fake-friendliness; better to be outright hated than pitied.)

Her hair was an offensive shade of violet, cropped and spiky as the weird monsters she dissected. And the _tattoos_. Hedda took one look at the image of Onibaba snaking across Newt’s forearm and paled. She had seen the real Onibaba in the flesh and once was enough for her.

Kaiju were the entire reason she had to limp around as if she was eighty, and Newt was _celebrating them._ Bits of them inevitably ended up on the blackboard or the desk.

The worst thing, though, was the noise. If it wasn’t endless babbling and non-sequiturs and stupid comments, it was awful electronic music blasting through the speakers. Or clicking a pen, or tapping a rhythm on the desk, or the squeaking of an office chair as she wheeled around the room.

It was as if she was barely contained within the confines of her body and it took all of Hedda’s self control not to duct tape her somewhere quiet so she could get some work done for once.

Dr Gottleib was more than disappointed. She hated Newt with the burning fires of a thousand neutron stars exploding at once and the sooner this war was over, the better.

So she turned around and flung another bit of chalk at her to shut her up.

* * *

 

Half of their time was spent arguing. It was easy to get caught up in argument and mockery and sniping.

The other half of their time was spent panicking over the end of the world.

There were spells, after each kaiju attack, when they both hunkered down in the lab and got more work done in a week than they had in three months. Newt would go strangely quiet (save for the insistent tapping of her left foot), and Hedda would bite back her sarcastic comments, and they would do nothing but work for five straight days.

It wasn’t _collaborative,_ exactly, but it wasn’t combative, either. Newt would bring Hedda takeout, sometimes, and tea, and she’d accept, because she didn’t like venturing out to get it herself.

When Newt was preoccupied, Hedda would sneak little glances at the tattoos covering her arms. It was a swirling mess of colour that should have been disorganised but somehow coalesced into a pleasing whole.

Once, when Newt was hunched over and dissecting a specimen, she glimpsed the blue edge of a tattoo at her collarbone, where her shirt had fallen open. The pattern continued across the skin below, and down further, presumably…

Newt glanced up then, as if she’d sensed the weight of her gaze. She peered at her.

“You all right there, Hedda?”

“Call me Dr Gottleib,” she bit back, and turned around to her blackboard. Her heart thundered in her ears as if she’d been caught sneaking chocolate out of the fridge. There was no need to _panic,_ she told herself. She’d just drifted off for a moment.

The chalk squeaked as she dragged it across the blackboard with a little more force than necessary.

She reminded herself, with each stroke, that Dr Geiszler was an arrogant upstart who would no doubt be giving media interviews on the latest overhyped miracle cure if it meant ‘being a rock star.’


	3. Chapter 3

On days when they weren’t able to get any work done, they argued.

Newt sort of liked it because she got her best ideas from arguing.

And it wasn’t like she _cared_ about Hedda’s actual opinions, anyway, because Newt was a brilliant maverick who didn’t need that sort of input, anyway. It was just refreshing to get a rise out of her.

The arguments followed a predictable pattern. Newt would say or do something, like breathe or exist in the general vicinity, and Hedda would bite back (because she was so _easy_ to bait). Then it was on. They traded insults back and forth  - “soft sciences”, “stupid hair” – until one or both of them stormed off in a huff and threatened to tell Pentecost.

(Newt knew for a fact that Dr Gottleib had, in truth, stopped requesting to be reassigned six months ago, but it was funny to see her keep making the same threat.)

Then they would come back about ten minutes later, and the both of them would work in silence, save for the insults they still muttered back and forth.

This was how the workday went.

One day, however, it went a little weird. Later, Newt would say it was because she was tired, and they were working toward the surprise deadline of a Category 4 attack on the horizon. She was certain all their data was building towards _something_ but she couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Somewhere outside the clouds were swollen with the promise of a tropical rainstorm. Inside it was humid and sticky and awful.

She was tugging the scalpel through the latest piece of kaiju brain, and in the background,  she could hear the scrape-scrape-scrape of Hedda’s chalk on the blackboard. Goosebumps rose up on her arms and her shoulders tightened.

“Stop it,” she muttered.

The squeaking continued.

Newt began tugging the scalpel through the flesh. There was a bit there that just wouldn’t give, dammit.

_Squeak squeak squeak._

Her grip on the handle went white. “Shut up _,_ ” she grumbled.

There was a pause. Then: “ _You_ can talk.” And the noise continued, punctuated with a sort of vicious clatter against the blackboard, as if she was stabbing it with the chalk.

“Just shut up!” Newt cried. As she did so, she sliced clean through the specimen, and her hand. She dropped the scalpel with a curse.

“What is it now?” hissed Hedda, turning around. Her eyes widened a little at the sight of Newt rushing over to the sink for decontamination.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking _shit,_ ” Newt chanted as she tore her gloves off, tossed them in the trash, and shoved her hand under the running water. The initial burn had subsided and the blue viscera washed away, but there was still fresh blood welling from the cut.

“Oh, stop being such a child,” said Hedda, in a tone that was not quite as level as before. “It can’t possibly be that bad, you’re just being overdramatic, as usual.”

There was the sound of footsteps and the thud of the cane as she crossed over to Newt’s side of the room  - god forbid! – and over to the sink.

“Hmph,” said Hedda, “Tiny bit of blood. Nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine.”

“I – I don’t like blood,” Newt babbled.

“You _what?_ ” Hedda gaped at her.

Newt was looking at a far corner of the room, and not at her hand.

“I don’t. Like. Blood. Okay? Okay. Pass me the fucking bandages.”

Hedda’s mouth curved in a crooked smile. She reached over and began to wrap a simple bandage around the palm of Newt’s hand. “Oh dear, me, you’re a biologist _,_ and you can’t handle a little blood? What on earth did you do before you worked on kaiju, darling?”

“Coped,” Newt spat, because she wasn’t going to focus on the last part of that sentence. “I can deal with blood, okay, all right, rats are fine and frogs are fine, just not _my_ blood, it’s supposed to stay _inside_ your body, not outside, and I am not going to faint, I just get a little dizzy, okay, I can deal with this,” Newt babbled as Hedda worked.

Newt kept staring at the ceiling. There was pink rising in her cheeks.

 “Anyway, this entire lab accident is all _your_ fault!”

“How is this my fault? I don’t use a scalpel.”

“You distracted me,” Newt spat. “Stop being so noisy! Stop it with the chalk and - and the squeaking!”

Hedda’s eyes narrowed as she finished the bandage, before tossing the rest in the bin.

 “That’s rich, coming from you. All I ever hear is your inane chatter and your bad taste in music.”

“How dare you, Aphex Twin is genius! Just because you’re going on 100 doesn’t mean everything new is bad. You should try it some time.”

Hedda sniffed. “I don’t need to try it. Your music sounds like someone beating a trashcan with a stick. They’re classics for a reason, darling.”

“Don’t call me that!” Newt said, in a voice that was strained.

“Oh, dear, does that bother you?” Hedda looked gleeful. “Well, you keep ignoring my extensive qualifications, so fair’s fair.”

“Yes, yes, we know, you’re a ‘proper scientist’,” Newt retorted. “And you’re a bore. Shut up about your stupid qualifications!”

“Make me,” said Hedda.

Newt just stared at her, astonished, and then a slow smile crept across her face. She flicked a bit of kaiju out of the sink and it landed on Hedda’s cardigan. She gave a little shriek and brushed it off, flailing about, while Newt cackled.

“Oh, man, you are _too easy,_ ” Newt said, wheezing.

“I’m sure the boys at college said the same about you,” Hedda snapped, her gaze full of wrath. Newt was so busy gaping at the comeback that she didn’t anticipate the volley of chalk thrown at her.

“Fuck you!” Newt gasped, and Hedda just grinned.

She raced round the room and Hedda staggered after her, pelting her with bits of chalk, and laughing whenever she got a hit. She was surprisingly accurate for someone with weak noodle arms.

By the end of it Newt was covered in chalk dust and Hedda, save for the spot on her cardigan, was entirely clean. Newt sagged against the blackboard, arms raised in defeat, as Hedda approached holding a duster in one hand.

“Okay, okay,” Newt said, “You win. Happy?”

For a minute there she thought she’d get pelted with the duster, but Hedda leaned across her into her space, and put the duster back with a sly smile. As she moved, Newt saw the pale line of skin at the nape of her neck, and the flyaway hairs that had escaped from their bun. A full-body shiver ran through her.

Hedda pulled back and looked at her. “I win, _darling_.”

They were standing quite close and Newt was suddenly aware of Hedda’s hands. They were dusted white with chalk, one curled reflexively around the handle of her cane, the other suspended as if seeking something to grasp at. She had thin, delicate fingers and Newt had a mad urge to kiss them clean.

And then she was aware of Hedda’s gaze on her, as it flickered downwards, and her lips parted on a breath, and the sound of that breath as it escaped into the space between them.

She had never been aware of her as a body, before, as something beyond an abstract concept.

Newt swallowed. She was afraid of her own wanting.

“Dr Geiszler,” said Hedda, her voice a knife that cut through the moment, and they both stepped back and took a breath.

Outside, the clouds had burst, and there was the distant sound of rain. It seemed absurd that she had been thinking of that, and Hedda was glaring at her with her usual blistering scorn, and then Newt said something stupid. In the next moment it was entirely forgotten.

But Hedda didn’t call her _darling_ again.


	4. Chapter 4

Once, and only once, did they discuss Hedda’s injury.

Newt was sitting in the lab by herself, because Hedda had wandered off somewhere ‘to get a cup of tea’. She had no idea what time it was. Maybe it was midnight, maybe it was ten o’clock. She’d never had the best grasp of time to start with.

All she knew was that it was late and her eyes were starting to hurt. Everyone was tired these days.

Time for a break.

That was the irony, of course. As soon as she started to get up, an idea came to her. The threads of what Hedda was working on and the threads of her own research connected together. Newt’s mouth fell open.

She jolted out of her seat. She had to tell someone, had to write it down before it passed, like so many of her thoughts. It was like trying to hold sand in her fingers.

Newt scribbled a single word on a piece of paper and then ran for the door. Down the corridor, tattered sneakers echoing on the metal floor, past the balcony which overlooked the vast machinery of the jaegers. Sparks flew past her and she ran.

Up a flight of stairs, along another corridor, and to the metal doors of their quarters. You could tell at once which one was Newt’s – it was covered in posters, while Hedda’s was bare.

She burst through the door without knocking.

Hedda’s quarters were bare to Newt’s eyes. Only the standard-issue metal furniture. A bed, a table, chairs. Rows of shelves, colour-coded storage boxes, and _everything_ labelled. The empty space felt odd.

The only concession to intimacy was a collection of pictures on the far wall. Family. A bearded man, who could only have been Hedda’s father, with one arm slung around her. Hedda looking poky and awkward with hugs– but happy. There was warmth in her eyes.

Newt turned away from the pictures, growing redder by the second. She felt like she’d stumbled on some terrible secret, even though it was nothing more than the proof of biology. That Hedda had, in fact, been born, and had not spontaneously generated out of pure math.

“Hedda?” she called. She noticed the thin sliver of light underneath the bathroom door.

Newt, who acted before thinking, went ahead and opened it.

She blinked. Her brain struggled to process it, like a dodgy video camera spitting out separate frames. There was Hedda, sitting at the edge of the bath. And there was Hedda, with her skirt rucked up above her knees, and a hand on a pale expanse of thigh.

For a split second, Newt’s brain went to a very unprofessional place. Then she blinked again and noticed the brown physio bandages.

“Ohhhh,” she said, “Right.”

The other woman’s head snapped up at the sound. A look of outrage crossed her face and then in the next second she was tugging her skirt down and yelling.

“Dr Geiszler, you useless cretin, have some common sense and knock next time!”

Newt went even more red.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just – I had something I wanted to tell you, I didn’t realise you were doing private stuff –“

“It’s a _bathroom,_ I could have been _naked,_ are there actual thought _s_ rattling around in that brain of yours or just a vacuum?!”

“Hedda, c’mon, I’m super sorry, I’m honestly more embarrassed for both of us-“

“Be embarrassed for yourself!”

Hedda flung the bandages at her and Newt caught them. She looked at her own hand in surprise. “Oh, hey!  I caught that!”

“Yes, well, good for you,” Hedda muttered darkly, smoothing her skirt down. “Maybe you can take up football. You’ve got the brains for it.”

Newt glared at her. “Not cool.”

Hedda reached over for her cane, wincing, and began the slow process of standing up. Each movement looked painful.

“Uh, do you need some help?” Newt said.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Hedda said with a dismissive wave. “I can do this myself.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” Newt stood there in the doorway feeling like a useless bit of furniture while Hedda rose to her feet. She crossed over to the room and elbowed past Newt.

“If you must know, my hip has been giving me a great deal of pain lately. So I have been to see the station’s physiotherapist. They have told me to leave the bandages on for three days. It hurts too much, so I was attempting to remove them, before you _barged in without knocking._ ”

“Oh, geez. That doesn’t sound fun.”

“No, I use  a cane for entertainment,” she said dryly. She crossed over to the kitchenette and began to pour hot water into a cup of tea that she’d left sitting there.

Newt’s hand twitched. She started shuffling her foot while she waited. Hedda hadn’t exactly asked her to _leave_ but she didn’t want to break the tenuous conversation yet. It was like she was waiting for something.

“How did it happen?’ Newt blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth. _Good going, genius._ “I- I mean, that was super rude, I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave now –“

“No, no, it’s quite all right.” Hedda sounded tired. “It was… during one of the first attacks. Onibaba.”

Newt’s eyes lit up. “Onibaba, aw man! Wow, so you were there! Did you see it up close? How – uh –“ she noticed Hedda glaring at her, “How rough. Uh. Sorry.”

“Yes, thank you for that consideration of other people’s feelings, Newt,” said Hedda with a pointed glare, “Like I said. I was giving a lecture at the time when they had to evacuate the building. Unfortunately our ability to predict the attacks at that time was limited… We didn’t have much warning.”

Hedda took a sip of tea. She was looking through the table instead of at Newt and her gaze had softened, the frown lines in her face gone slack with memory.

“I ran… I ran through the parking lot. It was close. I saw one of its feet go through the building as I was leaving. Like paper. Then its tail came round the other way as I was running and knocked me over. Tossed me like a sack of flour. I don’t remember that part. I don’t remember much at all, really. It didn’t see me. It was after some bigger goal, I remember thinking…”

“You were right,” Newt said softly.

Hedda looked up smiled. “You realise I’m going to save that one on record, Dr Geiszler. You just admitted I’m right.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Hedda shrugged her shoulders, seeming to snap out of her reverie. “Anyway. I’ve dealt with it. That’s all one can do, keep moving on.”

“Yeah…” said Newt slowly. “But, you know, if you need any help removing those bandages. I’m happy to help. Uh. Remove them. I mean, that’s not what I meant, uh –“

Hedda gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s quite all right, I don’t trust you with scissors anywhere near my person. …What was it you came here to tell me, anyway?”

Newt’s mind went blank. “Uh. Oh, shit. I had it on a bit of paper.”

“Oh, _honestly,_ Newt Geiszler, you useless…”


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes the arguments turned sour.

They had just met with Pentecost and it hadn’t gone well. Newt and Hedda strode along on opposite sides of the corridor in tense silence. Newt’s hands were shaking. They didn’t make eye contact.

As soon as they entered the lab, Newt exploded.

“I can’t _believe_ you said that!  I can’t believe you just shot down my ideas!”

Hedda sat down at her desk, back straight, and refused to meet her eyes. She had expected Newt to be stubborn, but not with something as serious as this. And, typically, Dr Geiszler was overreacting.

“You undermined me in front of everyone,” Newt shouted at her. “Why the hell would you do that? I’m right, dammit, and you know it!”

“Because drifting with a kaiju is a suicidal idea,” she snapped, “Because you have no idea what might happen, and because there is more at stake here than your ego!”

“ _My ego?”_ Newt hissed. “MY ego? Ohhh, that is rich, oh man.”

Newt jabbed a finger at Hedda. “No, this is about _your ego_ and how you can’t admit I’m right! This could save us and you won’t even listen because of your precious theories!”

“Learn to accept you’re wrong sometimes,” Hedda snapped. Her temper was fraying and part of her wanted to walk out of the room, but another part of her wanted to hammer the point through Newt’s thick skull. “You are _wrong,_ and if you could just accept that –“

Newt flung a bit of kaiju entrails across the room. It landed with a splat on the chalkboard and slid downwards, blurring the equations.

“ _That’s_ what I think of your theories!”

“Theories which have proved _correct,_ unlike your RIDICULOUS idea of drifting with a kaiju brain, you stupid girl!” Hedda stood up, gripping the edge of the desk with white fingers. Damn bloody stupid Newt, ruining days of work…

“I thought you were my friend,” Newt raged, taking off her glasses and wiping at her eyes furiously, “I trusted you!”

“What makes you think we were _ever_ friends, Dr Geiszler?” she spat. “I don’t have friends. Certainly not immature, reckless morons like yourself.”

Hedda knew at once that she’d said the wrong thing. She saw it in the way the light in Newt’s eyes flickered out and went cold.

Newt gave a shrill laugh. “Ooh, _edgy_ , so what, just cause you’re miserable, you can never be friends with anyone, ever? And we’ve all got to be as miserable as you?”

Hedda gripped her cane so hard it almost hurt.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Hedda said in a soft tone. She felt herself go still inside, like a part of her was shutting down, and all she could do was watch Newt talk. It was taking all her energy to keep her voice even.

“I know everything I need to,” said Newt, with a mocking laugh, “Look at you! You’re a walking cartoon! God, I bet the other girls at school hated you, right?”

Hedda felt the insult like a sharp pain between the ribs. She has been called many things by Newt, and gave as good as she got, but now she’s surprised herself by the pinprick of tears at her eyes. She had never wanted to slap Newt until now.

“You can talk,” she snapped, her voice breaking, “I bet you fawned all over the _popular girls_ in high school, just begging them to like you. And you’re still trying to impress them. It’s _pathetic._ ”

Newt took her glasses off and wiped her eyes furiously.

“Oh, yeah? Let’s talk about _you,_ genius. You’re an arrogant bore who spends all her time talking about maths instead of growing a personality. Because _maths can’t hurt you,_ am I right? I wouldn’t want to be friends with you either.”

She strode out and slammed the door so hard the blackboard rattled.

Hedda slumped down in her chair. Later, she would sit down and have to rewrite the equations Newt had destroyed, but right now, she was exhausted. Her leg ached. There was a headache building behind her eyes. Time to go back to her quarters, where she could take some painkillers and lie down in the darkness. And try not to think about losing the closest thing she had to a friend.

This was the end of the world. Certain sacrifices had to be made.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late and the lab was empty. Newt paced back and forth. This room felt too small. Her skull felt too small to contain the thoughts steaming inside. Her hands were shaking. She ran a hand through her hair and the violet strands stuck up even more. 

Newt was an angry crier; something which embarrassed her. She cried when she was happy, she cried when she was excited, and she cried when she was pissed off. Today, she'd managed to cry in front of Hedda  _and_ Stacker Pentecost. The memory made her wince. God, she'd actually yelled at Pentecost... There was no way in hell she was keeping her job this time.

The clock above the wall ticked. The sound bit into her brain and she wanted to get up and throw the damn thing off the wall. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she growled.

She had to do something. The last time she’d been this wound up she’d shaved her whole head. Maybe she could get another tattoo. _Fuck you, Hedda,_ in cursive. Or... she could get out and run. Drive to the airport and catch a plane to the other side of the planet. Change her name, start again, until the world ended and everything went to shit.

Hell, maybe she could just steal a jaeger.

Newt let out a little laugh as she flopped down into a chair, and started to spin back and forth, staring at the cradle of her own hands.

Her gaze drifted over to the tank on the far wall, with its greenish haze of fluid, and the shadow of the kaiju brain, floating disembodied. One of the tendrils reached out and pressed against the glass. Sometimes, when it was late at night like this and she was all alone in the lab, she got the feeling of being watched.

An idea came to her, then. Newt sat up as if she’d been stung.

“Fuck you, Hedda,” she said aloud and grinned to herself. She’d never been good at resisting an impulse.

* * *

 

It was Hedda who found her of course.

She’d dragged herself out of bed after an hour’s nap, feeling groggy, and with a nasty taste in the back of her throat. The medication had made her dreams unsettled. Something about Newt.

 _Newt,_ she thought, with a sinking feeling in her gut. She could still remember the look on Newt’s face in that moment of shutdown, as whatever part of her she’d opened to Hedda was gone. Perhaps… perhaps they had both been a bit ego driven.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to apologize.

Much as she hated Newt’s constant noise and movement and colour – silence was worse. It wouldn’t do to end the evening on an argument.

So Hedda dragged herself out of bed. She left her rooms and stopped at the 24/hr café along the way, to pick up a coffee as a peace offering. Hedda had always hated coffee. It was vile, bitter stuff, but it wasn’t for her. It was for Newt, who was worn out and angry and sad. Maybe it would help.

She hurried down to the lab and pushed the door open. She shuffled into the room, balancing the coffee in one hand, and maneuvering with the cane in the other.

“Newt…?” she called out.

The lab was quiet. That was how she knew something was wrong. No music blaring. No squeaking wheely chair or humming or tapping. No sound at all save for the hum of electronics in the background.

And something else. An electronic hissing…

As Hedda stepped past the desk, she looked across the room, and the coffee dropped from her fingers and splattered across the floor. She didn’t even feel the burn of stray droplets against her skin.

Newt lay unconscious on the ground.

Her first thought was, _Please don’t die before I get to apologize._

She staggered across the lab and kneeled at Newt's side, ignoring the pain in her knee. She reached over and ripped the headset off. Newt was writhing and jerking on the floor, and there was blood running from her nose, and oh god, Hedda had no idea what to do. She cradled her and tried to keep her out of harm’s way as the worst of the shocks went through her.

Then the body in her arms stilled. Hedda grasped her face with shaking fingers. She traced a finger over her eyelids, still twitching as if in the throes of REM sleep, and across her mouth, soft and slack. That lovely mouth. Her precious face. Her brilliant mind.

“Newt,” she said, “Newt, you colossal idiot… don’t you _dare_ do this to me!”

Then Newt was stirring, struggling to focus, until her eyes settled on Hedda’s face, and she frowned.

“S… Sorry. I just wanted to…

“Shh, sshhhh, just sit. Good god, Newt, I’d kill you myself, if you hadn’t already tried it.” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to kiss her or yell at her for scaring her like that. And she still wasn’t sure if Newt was even okay. There was blood running from her nose and one of her eyes was red.

Newt started all of a sudden, as if electrocuted, and she gripped Hedda’s shirt.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Hedda asked.

“We need to speak to Pentecost! Now!”


	7. Chapter 7

Hedda expected Newt to do reckless things, because that was how Newt operated. By the end of the day, she didn’t expect _herself_ to join in, but strange things happened at the end of the world.

In one day, she had been in a helicopter, drifted with a disembodied kaiju brain, lost most of her dinner, and helped to cancel the apocalypse. That was quite enough for one day. She was so tired the stabbing pain in her leg had subsided to a dull burn.

By the time they were given the all-clear by medical, it was almost morning. The light outside was blue, on the verge of sunrise, and the epic party in the Shatterdome was winding down.

With medical discharge bracelets on their wrists and bandaids covering the marks of blood tests on their arms, they wandered through the corridors together. It felt like a dream. Music was blaring from speakers somewhere a few levels down, yet it was almost deserted. Half-conscious, they stumbled over discarded drinks and paper streamers and maneuvered around couples sitting huddled in doorways like birds gone home to roost.

Hedda wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, and neither was Newt, but for the moment, she was glad for the warmth by her side. She had a constant _awareness_ of Newt’s presence now, deeper than what she had before. She could feel how bone-tired Newt was. Hungry, too.

She doesn’t even need to suggest takeout. They both end up there, ordering noodles at a tiny street stall.

They sat down on the sidewalk and devoured their food in dazed silence.

Once ate some food and felt human again, Hedda found it in herself to speak.

“I – I’m still angry at you,” she managed to get out. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was cruel to you. I didn't - that is to say, I didn't intend -"

“I know,” said Newt, who did know, more than anyone. Then she added: ““I’m sorry you had to find me like that.”

“ _Don’t do it again,_ ” Hedda said in a stern voice, then added, “At least let me know if you’re going to do anything that stupid so I can at least do it with you.”

“I promise,” said Newt. “Nobody else would’ve done that for me, Hedda. You’re braver than me, you know that? Way braver. I was just some idiot with a rig, _you_ were the big damn hero. That was pretty wild of you.”

She looked at her and grinned. “Next thing you know you’ll be riding a motorcycle. Get you a leather jacket.”

“Never!” Hedda looked scandalised.

“Okay, _I’ll_ wear the leather jacket, and you can ride with me, how’s that?”

Hedda smiled. “Acceptable.”

Hedda knew all about Newt. She knew that crawling _restlessness_ Newt experienced, near constantly, the need to get up and go. The taste of alcohol at 16 and the pressure of sitting in a lecture hall with people decades older. She knew the burn of a tattoo and the liberation of shaving her head and feeling completely untouchable.

And Newt knew all about Hedda. She knew how soothing it was to spin chalk between her fingers to calm herself. The taste of tea with three sugars.  She knew what it was like to sit up at 3 am, crying, because the painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet. She missed a father she never knew, who was in the building when a kaiju went through it.

They knew it all, now, and there was almost nothing left to say.

Newt opened her mouth, started to speak and couldn’t get the words out. For once in her life, she was silent.

Hedda filled the silence for her, because she knew how much Newt hated silence.

“You… you matter to me, Newt. I think you’re _brilliant._ And you never have to prove anything to me. You have so, so much potential. I want you to believe that.”

Newt let out a breath.

Her ears had turned pink. Her voice wobbled as she said: "I think you're... you're amazing. And I never said anything because I didn't want to embarrass myself, and I was kind of jealous, honestly, but you were so right and, and, I'm kind of a trainwreck, to be honest. But thanks for being there.."

Newt squinted as the sun began to rise and the pale rays fell through the city streets and crept up the walls of the Shatterdome. She let out another breath, this one shaky and unsure, and suddenly Hedda could sense her nervousness. The pulse that fluttered through her. _Please like me, please like me._ All Newt had ever wanted was for people to like her; something Hedda gave up on years ago.

Hedda knew what she was going to say before she said it. It floated into her mind, unbidden.

A moment later, Newt said: “About friendship…”

“Yes,” Hedda blurted.

“Hey! Let me finish,” Newt said, grinning back at her, and her eyes were shining. “About friendship. I, uh, think you already know this, but what the hell –I don’t want to be your friend, Hedda.”

“Oh, thank goodness, I don’t want to be your friend, either,” Hedda teased. “You’re _terrible._ ”

“So are you. Just totally awful. I don’t even know why we hang out, honestly.”

Newt beamed at her and Hedda smiled back. The expression felt unfamiliar on her face.

She could feel the stirring of memories that weren’t hers. Watching herself arguing, and then seeing it from Newt's perspective, and the little thrill that went through her as Hedda leaned in close. It was strange to look back and see yourself reflected in the lens of someone else’s desires. But of course, the neural link went both ways, and Hedda went pink with the realisation.

 “What’s the matter?” Newt said, looking mischievous.

“How… how much did you see in the Drift, exactly?”

“Enough,” said Newt, with a cryptic smile. Hedda started at the feeling of fingers twining around her own. She sat still and let Newt take her hands, one at a time, lifting them to her mouth and kissing them. Dared to slide a finger past her lips and felt the barest pressure of teeth, and shivered.

“Hedda,” said Newt, with one eyebrow raised, “We have a lot of time to make up for. Like, can you imagine if we hadn’t argued all the time?”

“We wouldn’t have gotten any work done, you know,” Hedda teased, and added, " _Darling._ "

“Good thing the apocalypse is over,” said Newt. She leaned forward and kissed her. Hedda froze for a moment, just a split second where she panicked and knew it was all going to go away, but then Newt leaned in and there was a warm hand on the back of her neck.

Newt was still there. She was still there. It was all going to be okay, for now.


	8. Chapter 8

It was way after midday when Newt woke up. No sirens blared. The whole building, for once, was silent with a collective hangover after a night of frenzied celebrations. She sat up and returned to a slow awareness of the room around her.

She was lying in an unfamiliar bed with dark grey sheets. The room was far too ordered and sparse to be her own. The alphabetic row of mathematics books on one of the far shelves gave a clue. But Hedda Gottleib herself was nowhere to be seen.

Newt scrubbed at her eyes. The events of last night felt like a dream. She and Hedda had wandered back to her room, and talked and talked. It was amazing how much Hedda could talk when she wanted to. And then somewhere in that talking Newt had flopped down onto the bed and drifted off.

She rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As she looked down, she saw she was still wearing the same clothes from last night. They reeked of mud and blood and kaiju guts. Her mouth felt like cotton wool. And in the mirror, she could see flecks of dried blood on her face. Gross.

There was nothing better right then than a shower. She sat under the hot water until her skin was pink and just relished in, it while the dirt ran into the drain.

After she’d gotten out, she towelled off and rinsed her mouth out. Then she slung the towel around her neck and tiptoed out of the bathroom.

“ _Good lord_.”

Newt froze.

Hedda, being a disgusting morning person, had gotten up early and dressed ages ago. She was now standing there with two takeout cups, and staring at Newt with her mouth open.

It took Newt a second to remember that she wasn’t wearing anything

“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin, “Can I borrow one of your shirts? Mine has kaiju blood on it.”

“Of – of course,” Hedda stammered, “I just thought I’d bring you coffee.”

“Aw, thanks, you’re a babe.”

Newt grinned and started looking for a shirt in her cupboard. It was arranged by colour order (beige, brown and grey – what else). How many identical cardigans and button-up shirts could one person own? Amazing.

Hedda was still standing there looking pink and helpless. “I mean, I knew you had tattoos and I’d – well, I must admit, one does wonder, but I hadn’t – that is to say….” she babbled.

A slow grin crept over Newt’s face. She put the shirt back on the rack and shut the cupboard door.

“You wanna see?” she said, turning around slowly.

“I’ve – ah, probably seen enough – “ It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than Newt, and failing at it.

“Relax,” said Newt, who liked showing off, “You probably saw way worse in the Drift. Like my most embarrassing memories. This is nothing.”

“That is a fair point, actually,” said Hedda who was now looking across Newt’s body with an open curiosity. There was a slight pinkness in her cheeks and Newt felt a rush of pride that she could render Hedda speechless.

She could feel inquisitive gaze across her forearms and down her chest and stomach.

“Extensive. That’s incredible. It must have taken a long time,” she murmured.

“Oh, yeah, hours in the chair. Totally worth it, though.”

“May I…?” said Hedda with the same sort of politeness she might ask for a stapler. Newt was charmed and stepped closer so that she could get a better look.

Hedda peered at the tattoo that went across her back.

“You like them?” said Newt. She didn’t mean to sound needy but right then it mattered to her that Hedda liked them. Liked her.

“I… hadn’t always appreciated the subject matter,” Hedda murmured, “Though they have their own artistry. Quite pleasing. Um. On an aesthetic level.” She cleared her throat.

Newt turned to settle cross-legged on the bed.

Hedda was now looking at her with an expression that she’d noticed before, but never recognised for what it was - hunger. Now she knew from the drift that Hedda had often used to steal glances when Newt was preoccupied. And wondered _exactly_ how far the tattoos went.

No such furtive glances now. Her gaze roved across Newt’s collarbone, across her bare breasts inked with warring kaiju in blue and green, down her stomach to her navel, and the bare skin below.

“You can touch them if you want,” said Newt. “Go ahead.”

This was more for Hedda’s benefit than her own. She knew Hedda would never dare ask to fuck her; prudence was too ingrained in her being.

Her expression was small and wide-eyed. But she nodded and leaned forward with one hand outstretched to touch her. Her fingers were feather light as they ran down her forearm and turned it over to study the intricate network there.

Then up along her bicep and shoulder. Newt bared her neck for examination. She wanted more pressure, a firmer grasp, but let Hedda go at her own pace. She didn’t want to scare her off so soon.

Hedda touched her neck, collarbone, clavicle, and hesitated. Newt took her hand and guided it to her breast. It was just as intricately decorated as the rest of her. She could hear the hitch in Hedda’s breathing as she cupped her breast. A finger brushed over the nipple which stiffened at the contact. Newt shuddered.

“It’s fine,” she said, at Hedda’s questioning look. “Keep going.”

She laid back down on the bed. Hedda leaned over her and Newt felt the heat of her breath fanning over her skin.

This was somehow more torturous than waiting in the tattoo artist’s chair. She had to lie still as Hedda explored at her own place and resist the urge to touch herself. Her hands twitched at her sides with the effort.

A finger brushed against her ribs and Newt let out a ticklish snort.

“Heh – that one’s Knifehead – rib tattoos hurt like a bitch.”

“I’m sure,” murmured Hedda.

Another hand ran along her ankle, her knee, her upper thigh. Warm breath ghosted across her stomach and she shivered. A strand of hair had unfurled from Hedda’s bun and tickled where it touched her breast.

“I want – “ Hedda stumbled over her words, as if she didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted.

“Go on,” said Newt, sounding a little less cool than she had at the start. Hedda bent and pressed a soft kiss to her breast. Her hand drifted up to knead the flesh there, cupping it in a gentle palm, and there was the wet press of a tongue. It was still nowhere near enough. Kitten kisses; sweet and harmless.

Newt let out a frustrated laugh. “Hedda, you are driving me nuts –“

In response, she pinched a nipple between two fingers, and Newt gasped, grasping the sheets.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed.

“Eventually,” came the deadpan response.

Newt grinned as Hedda began her slow descent downwards.

Her touches were firmer now and more assured as she trailed a line of kisses down her stomach, stopping at the junction of hip and thigh. She leaned over Newt’s outstretched legs and her hair brushed against sensitive skin.

Newt let out a groan of frustration. But she saw the hesitation on Hedda’s face as she paused.

“Hey,” said Newt, “You don’t have to do anything. It’s cool. It’s all cool. Honestly. Whatever you’re up for.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” Hedda admitted, going pink.

“Well, you could try touching, I’d really appreciate – oh!”

Hedda had pressed a curious finger between her legs. A gentle rubbing against the soft skin just above her folds. Newt was a little self-conscious at how wet she was even from just lying here and the barest of touches – mere petting – but Hedda didn’t seem to mind.

She continued rubbing a finger against her clit in a slow but insistent rhythm.

Within minutes of this touch, Newt was gasping and moving her hips up into it.

Newt guided her hand down again and showed her how she liked to be touched. A little more forceful, a little deeper. At the first intrusion of a finger, Newt rocked against it, craving more.

“You usually use toys on yourself,” said Hedda, in a calm tone as though they were discussing the weather. “I imagine it’s not quite the same.”

“Ah – how do you – holy shit – how do you know that..?”

“The Drift revealed a lot about you,” said Hedda, with a sly smile. “Maybe I can use them on you.”

“ _Hell yes_ ,” gasped Newt. The idea of Hedda methodically and ruthlessly going through her entire collection sprang into her mind. With that soft voice talking her through it the whole time.

And the next instant she was riding her fingers, fucking herself on them in desperation. She gripped Hedda’s hand to hold her there, tilted her head back, and came with a low moan.

She flopped back against the pillows, feeling warm and boneless, with her legs still spread and dampness running down her thighs.

For a few long minutes she lay there and caught her breath.

Hedda dragged her hands away for a moment, examined the wetness with a curious glance, and licked it off her fingers. That sight alone would have done her in if she wasn’t already a mess.

“That was – uh – thanks,” she panted.

“Hmmm,” said Hedda, in a noncommittal tone.

Newt felt a bit selfish, then, so she rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself on her elbows to look at Hedda in the eye.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Want me to return the favour? Not that, uh, not that you have to or anything, I just thought…”

Hedda nodded. She looked shy again all of a sudden.

Newt said: “We can do whatever. I’m cool. Just lemme know what you want, okay?”

Her cheeks flushed. “My hip…”

“Oh!” Realisation dawned. “Make yourself comfy. Here.”

Newt sat up and started flinging pillows around, stacking them up, and surrounding them with blankets. Hedda looked on with amusement.

“Is this a blanket fort?”

“It can be whatever you want it to be, babe. A blanket Taj Mahal, if you’re into that.”

Hedda’s mouth quirked with the beginnings of a smile.

Newt settled back against the pillows and beckoned Hedda to lie down. She pulled her back so that she rested against Newt like she was one of the pillows, with her head tucked under Newt’s chin, back against her stomach. Newt spread her legs so Hedda had more room.

“Comfy? How’s your hip?” Newt asked, as she brushed a hand against her through the clothes. The instant her fingers touched it she drew back in surprise at the answering stab of pain.

“A little sore this morning…” Hedda confessed. She let out a sigh as Newt dug her fingers in and began kneading in circles.

“How about this?”

“Hmmm… Keep going.”

She continued for several more minutes, working half on instinct, half on the responses Hedda gave her, and felt the sharp knife of pain that had echoed back to her begin to subside.

At the same time, she could feel the way Hedda relaxed back against her, going soft and pliant, and the way she tilted her head back against Newt’s shoulder. Another small sigh escaped her and her eyes were half closed, like a cat sunning itself.

The pain had dulled to something fuzzy and indistinct when Hedda took her hand and shifted it to the centre, moving it down a little more as an invitation.

Newt pressed the heel of her palm against her with a firm touch. Through the layers of fabric of her skirt, it was almost guesswork, but Hedda’s gasp told her she was on the right track.

Newt kissed the back of her neck and behind her ear, just to hear the different sounds she got in response. Hedda moved up against her hand and Newt smiled. She could just feel the mound of her under her fingers. She pressed her thumb in and rubbed in little circles.

“More,” Hedda whispered.

Newt managed to wriggle a hand around, tugging the waistband of her skirt down, and then battled with the tights she wore – how many layers could one person wear? – and then _finally_ got to her underwear. There was the outline of the dark curls of hair and the growing dampness through the fabric.

“You want more?” said Newt, grinning.

“Ah – _what do you think?_ ” she said. She gripped Newt’s hand with surprising force and pressed it against her, tilting her hips with a neediness that Newt liked a lot.

“You’re all wet, babe,” said Newt, against her ear, in a teasing tone. “All for me?”

“ _Yes,_ Newt, hurry up, please,” Hedda snapped.

“Oh, all right, just cause it’s you and you asked nicely.”

Newt slipped a hand under the elastic of her underwear and found the warm and sensitized skin there in the wiry thatch of hair. Hedda tilted her head back against Newt’s shoulder, lips parted on a wordless sigh, and spread her legs further in an unconscious motion. She tensed as Newt’s fingers rubbed against her clit.

“Ohhhh…. That’s – oh! Much better…”

“Yeah? Just wait til I eat you out.”

Hedda moaned. She seemed to like the sound of that. Newt slid a finger through her wet folds. It was easy, it was so slick with arousal.

“Maybe – maybe one day – when we’re in the lab,” Newt said, against the shell of her ear, “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“Newt, you will _not,_ ” said Hedda, sounding scandalized.

“I’ll get you up against the desk, yeah, and I’ll kneel down and push your skirt up-“

“That is _highly inappropriate,_ ” said Hedda, with a breathless laugh, not even pretending to be mad anymore. Her hips canted up against Newt’s hands as a fingers lid in, so slowly, while a thumb brushed against her clit.

“Hey, I get all my best material from you,” Newt teased. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this exact thing. I _remember._ You couldn’t wait to get back to your room and finger yourself because I was driving you nuts –“

“ _Oh, darling_ ,” said Hedda, and there was a shift in her breathing and the way she moved her hips that told Newt she was close. On a knife’s edge.

Newt’s other hand sneaked up to palm against her breast through her shirt and felt her nipple harden at the contact. With her other hand she drew deeper, alternating between light touches against her clit, and pushing further inwards with her fingers.

Hedda was curling in on herself, as if seeking to take all of her inside, and her gasps sounded broken.

“Newt – ohhh, I can’t –“ She sounded almost distressed at the feelings working through her.

“I’ve got you,” Newt promised, “Come on. That’s it.”

She let out a low moan and finally shuddered against Newt’s fingers. Newt slid her hand away and continued to massage in little circles at her hip. Hedda sank back against her, sated, still drawing in gasps of air as she came back down from it.

“That was – thank you,” she said in a breathless tone.

“No, thank   _you._ We were both pretty awesome just now.”

“Drift compatible,” said Hedda, sounding blissful. She shifted round and caught Newt’s lips in a kiss. Newt lost herself for a minute in the warmth of it.

They both sank back down against the pillows. Hedda’s hair, now a mess, was pillowed against Newt’s chest. It was a sight Newt didn’t think she would ever tire of. Someday soon, maybe, Hedda would let her explore all of her and kiss every inch of skin the way it deserved to be kissed.

For now, this was more than enough.

Hedda opened her eyes and sat up. “Your coffee’s gone cold,” she said.

“Don’t care,” Newt mumbled, “Stay. I wanna nap.”

“You just got up, Newt.”

“Nap with me.”

“Oh, all right,” said Hedda, in a fond voice. She sounded sleepy as well and allowed herself to be pulled back down into their nest of blankets. They would doze for an hour or so before waking again. They had all the time in the world left to them. It was even better to have someone to share it with.


End file.
